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Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Saturday, January 23, 2010

Alia

There were days when I usually found myself stuck with my fingers firmly resting on the keyboard with my eyes staring blindly at the monitor with the blogger writing pad showing, having not even the slightest thing in mind to write about.

Today is one of those days.

So I tweeted and asked my fellow twiends for ideas. And Altimet came up with quite a brilliant idea:

Coco mengada at the bottom :b

Strange. I have written many about my past relationships but not my first crush. Not that I have totally forgotten about the lady but it seems that it never crosses my mind at all all these while. Well, it worths it to reminisce a bit about it, I think.

So here goes.

* * *

January '90.

The first day of school.

A lot of students in the class by that hour, aside from worried-sick but overwhelmingly proud parents who came to see their kids performing in the kindergarten for the first time. Some of the kids were crying though their moms and dads were just a wall-with-open-windows away from them, including one who sat on my left. I still remember how he cried so much that literally his desk was covered with nothing else but a bucket-worth of tears and saliva and sinus discharge.

I didn't cry at all that day.

Not that I was being a macho guy whatsoever. Come on, I was only six that time. Well probably it was because of my dad and mom who were then watching me from quite a distance away. The only person who can make me cry during when I was a kid was dad, usually from certain degree of whacking I got from being too carelessly active, and when I did he usually will tell me to quit it or I will get more. And usually enough, I'll shut the hell up and behave right away.

So the logic here is, I did not cry because if I did, I certainly will get some whacking. Pretty impressive for a seven-year old child, huh? Let's move on.

Apart from the completely hysterically mixed environments we had in the class that day, I happened to notice this one particular girl who sat somewhere in the middle of the class, facing me. She had the look of an Arabic; with her rather pointy nose, bird-lips, fair skin and shoulder-length wavy, brownish hair, she looked like a total nuclear weapon to me. Looking at her amidst the completely havoc situation with crying kids, crying moms, the teacher losing her head among other things, she looked absolutely appealing to me. The time seemed to slow down a little.

I wondered about her name.

And then I knew her name.

"Hello everyone," she greeted the class in such tremendously heartwarming voice ever heard by a six-year old child, "My name is Alia."

Then she smiled at me.

* * *

Ever since that day I had always wanted to go and speak to her but very least I had the guts to. Almost every day of school I went with two candies in my pocket with the hope that I could give her one and the other for myself (back in the days, giving out candy to a girl was like the real bold shit ever). But in the end of the day the candies either ended up in my mouth or my friends' but hers.

That could possibly be the first time ever shyness towards girls occurred to me.

During learning period in class I always did show off myself so much just to impress her. I could count to hundred while others could only do ten. I could spell in three syllabus while others could only spell out alphabets. During playtime I did show off too. I could do a complete trip on the slide, from climbing the ladder to the top of the slide and then slide off to the ground and back to the ladder again in just six seconds or less. I could do swing at 135 degree angle too.

And strangely enough, Alia did exchange smiles with me every time I smiled at her, and I blused so much that I swear if there was Pink Panther there, he could have slapped me from being more pinkish than he is.

There was one day when we were playing with colorful plasticine clay at school (it was a rainy day so we had to play inside during playtime) and I made a head carving of Alia using the provided clay. While doing this, my eyes were on Alia who was then trying hard to make some sort of four-legged creature I believed to be a cat but somehow looked like an overfed Llama. Slowly the face was made and refined over and over, layer by layer. I was so focused in it that when a friend, who happened to be the first class brat in the whole kindergarten, came to me and asked what was I doing, I simply told him - which was the wrong thing to do.

"Hahahahahahahahaha..!!" he laughed at me. "Look everyone, he's making Alia!" he continued to say and to laugh while pointing his finger at the rough tentative carving of Alia I held dearly in my hand like some Greek masterpiece ever made worthy enough to make it into the century's hall of fame for arts and cultures.

"That is not Alia," he furthermore said. "That's a cow!"

I saw Alia had her eyes on me, aside from every other eye. The fat brat was still laughing hysterically next to me. I suddenly felt something burning around my ears.

*smack!*

"What was that?" the teacher stood up from her chair to take a look. Next she said was,

"Oh my God!"

* * *

I still could not fully explain how the carving traveled from my hand and onto the brat's face in a little less than two seconds or so, flat.

There he lied flat on the floor rolling around screaming for help as I stood by looking at him with my fists clenched and my fierce face clearly showing. For the first time in my life I felt so angry and in the same time so brave and satisfied with what I did. I did not speak even a single word at all, even when the teacher pulled me out from the class to the headmistress' office. From afar I saw Alia cried.

That act of course was heroic, in the mind of mine that time - to stand up to a girl you deeply in love with, protecting her from every danger whatsoever that could harm her in any way. No one call my lady a cow. 'Come what may, I shall protect thee from everything, even when it costs my own life ' kind of thing. Very, very heroic.

But this heroic act did not earn me at all any medal but a series of sincere whacking I received with no questions asked from my dad. But that was not the only bad thing that happened. At least not the worst. What worst was that...

...Alia did not return my smile anymore after that incident.

* * *

I graduated with flying colors.

And one disciplinary case.

And I still did not know why Alia cried.

That was like what, 19 years back? I never saw Alia again after kindergarten year ended. She must be so pretty by now, I guess. I tried finding her in Facebook but I only ended up with more than 35,000 raw results that has to be refined. I don't know her full name of course, hence the broad-spectrum search. I gave up the refining job at the 500th person.

I wonder where she is.

Well wherever you are, Alia, I wish that you live your life happily. I hope that you have found what you really wanted in life, and that you keep on smiling like you did almost twenty years ago.